Alarik
by Pandawii
Summary: Tirell is the son of the kingdoms cruellest man, who also happens to be the King of Alarik. After his father disowns him, the only way for him to earn his pride back and show his strength is to return to his father with the head of a dragon. Tirell sets off on a journey to prove himself and his strength to his father, however what learns is something he never could have predicted.


**200 years ago**

The sounds of water, continuously dripping echoed around the damp rocks creating a rhythm that matched that of each pump of the three warrior's hearts, making their way into a choking blindness and towards what could prove to be the story of their demise. Each warrior mentally strengthening their own resolve, remembering that earth's safety was depending on them.

There stood three creatures unlike any the warriors had ever witnessed before, standing tall and regal each creature oozed power, strength and absolute sovereignty over the area. Maroon and grey scales clashed in confrontation creating patterns no human could ever begin to mimic. The three warriors, standing wide eyed in awe met the piercing yellow eyes of each creature.

"I must say" boomed the voice of the middle creature, commanding the complete attention of the warriors "You have guts, to stand before us."

The sound of water dribbling around them continued, only serving to add to the eerie effect prompted by this meeting.

"To stand here, in front of your enemies begging for help" Sarcastic chuckling followed the second dragon's soliloquy "That's not guts, that's cowardice!" The creature added, flashing his protruding teeth.

"With all respect" the warriors voice echoed off the water stained walls "we are not begging. I am sure you are aware of the threat Earth is currently under. This is not the time for personal grudges, WE MUST UNITE IN ORDER TO PROTECT OUR PEOPLE!" one of the warriors spoke, breaking from the awe he was once a prisoner of.

"Humans and Dragons alike." Added the third warrior

The three mighty creatures made eye contact, communicating a message the humans couldn't begin to understand.

"How is it, that after years of war and terror, you humans expect us to work together?" The middle creature spoke again, scales more grey than maroon giving the impression that he was the eldest, wisest and the leader of the group.

"Trust, it is a main component of a successful unity. I'd expect you humans to know this by now."

The blonde warrior removed his weapons from his holster, dropping it to the mud stained rock before speaking "Trust… trust is something that we will need to build together. A flower doesn't grow without the seed. Who knows, maybe our common goal will lead to the end of human-dragon wars. Maybe this is the beginning of the end for the 'Red Flood War'!" his fellow warriors following suit with their weapons, dropping them to the earth.

Grunting in acknowledgement, the three dragons once again made eye contact, conversing deeply with just one look.

"Very well then, humans."

 **Tirell**

"Your father has summoned you, Prince Tirell" nodding in acknowledgement, Tirell took a deep breath before making his way to his father's chambers.

The sound of his footsteps echoed off the polished ground as he made his way through the castle. Portraits lined with gold filled the never ending corridor, creating a museum of his family's history. Faces of his great grandfather, uncles and cousins peered down at him, creating an uneasy atmosphere.

Tirell, lost in his thoughts wondered why his father summoned him. He was well aware that his father had been following his every move. Every small step Tirell took, the king was made aware. He'd already been feeling the pressure recently, more than ever. His father had high expectations, he expected Tirell to become as formidable as himself. Tirell was confident in himself. He knew he was the best swordsman out of all of his father's men. He was the best at wielding magic, by a long shot. No one compared to his rare thunder elemental magic, that is no one except for his father. And that therein was the problem. His father wouldn't be satisfied until he became as brutal and all powerful as him. He expected Tirell to take over, to be the most powerful leader Alarik ever witnessed.

His confident gait loosened as he knocked on his father's door

"Enter" the sound of the king's aloof voice filled Tirell with anxiety. Doing his best to mask it, he entered.

"Prince Tirell, how nice of you to visit" sarcasm bled from the Kings voice, before he took a sip of wine from his gold encrusted flask, a sign of obvious wealth.

"I've heard things boy" standing tall from his throne, King Castiel made his way down to Tirell.

Keeping his posture straight, Tirell spoke up with practiced respect "If I may ask, father. What is it that you've heard?"

Before Tirell could even witness his father move, cold wine dripped from his face and into his blue eyes. Brown hair, much like his father's stained with red wine.

Flinching, Tirell brought his fingers to his hair wiping the wine that was once held in a golden flask out of his eyes. The sound of Castiel's voice boomed through the room. Spit hitting Tirell's face as he held his military stance.

"YOU HAVE SHAMED ME BOY!"

Heart throbbing, Tirell fought to keep his face straight.

"I don.." The golden ringed fingers of his father's hand met his pale skin. Staggering back at the force of the punch, Tirell met the king's livid eyes, shades of blue swirling in obvious contempt, not unlike his own.

"You spared the scum! You were ordered to put an end to the coup. Not spare their lives." The king's voice planting the seeds of an oncoming headache for Tirell.

"What kind of king are you going to be for this kingdom?!"

This wasn't anything new to Tirell, he has spent his entire 20 years of life trying to please his father. Every achievement gained with the sole goal of pleasing his father, but it never worked. He was never good enough.

"A failure." His father spoke, voice quiet and laced with malice. Chuckling followed his statement before he continued.

"who'd have thought, my son. The son of the greatest most powerful man in the kingdom, would turn out to be such a pathetic weakling"

The sound of his father's chuckles pierced Tirell's heart. He found this funny, this was Tirell's livelihood and his father found it funny. Why?

"It's was that damn woman's doing. I shouldn't have ever let her coddle you. She's made you weak."

Tirell's defeated heart surged with anger. Trying his best but failing to keep in check, he spoke out.

"This has nothing to do with my mother, she was a good and strong woman!" Tirell could feel his fingers shake, the feeling of fire rushing to his fingertips and his heart pounding with adrenaline was a sign of his body preparing for a fight.

Within seconds Tirell's body flew through the air, the feeling of utter loss of control overwhelmed him as he hit the perfectly polished white wall, staining it with his blood.

"YOU DARE TRY USE YOUR POWERS AGAINST ME, BOY!" to sound of the kings knuckles cracking accompanied his distinctive deep voice.

"Apparently it seems my son isn't just a pathetic weakling, but also a fool." He added, smirking as he made his way to his son, laying crumpled on the ground.

Struggling to catch his breath, Tirell noted the blood dripping down his forehead entwining with the dried red wine that decorated his pale features. Muscles aching, he stood from his spot on the ground, clenching knuckles and grinding teeth accompanied his next words

"I am no weakling father. I am not pathetic, and my mother was a strong woman whom helped you govern our kingdom! HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF HER MEMORY IN VAIN!" blood dripping from his defined jaw, Tirell pointed to his father before adding "She helped you!"

Shaking his head, King Castiel frowned upon the pathetic sight of his son.  
"Your mother was weak. Don't try to ever convince yourself otherwise." Smirking he bent down and picked up his golden flask from his position on the ground. "Had she not been weak, a puny little illness wouldn't have taken her from this world." Blue eyes clashed before the king added "Not an honourable way for a warrior to die"

A sharp pain sliced Tirell's heart, the feeling of abandonment, loss and grief fresh as a raw cut. The buzzing in his ears cut off any further words his father spoke.

Heart slamming against his chest, Tirell swiftly turned away from his father and made his way towards the exit. The sound of his father's laugh cutting through his haze. The astute eyes of his ancestors once again following him down the corridors. Taking shelter in his room, Tirell rushed to the sink and submerged his head beneath water in a bid to scare the evils away. Hurt, grief and loss chased away by water, leaving him feeling nothing but emptiness and abandonment.


End file.
